


Of misson reports and poems (or Clint is secretly talented but fury doesn't care)

by Katerobber



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angry Nick Fury, Bland Marvel Headcanons, Clint has talent, Coulson is Awesome, Paperwork, Tony sucks at poetry, air vents, gift fanfiction offering, poem, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 07:19:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4010860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katerobber/pseuds/Katerobber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someones been writing poems instead of reports at SHEILD </p><p>Also opportunity for a gift fanfiction from yours truly if you can answer the question inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of misson reports and poems (or Clint is secretly talented but fury doesn't care)

'Foul blood was spilled, 

At last foe was defeated, 

We bare slightest wounds,' 

Nick fury slammed the short poem on the table( I'll write a prompt fanfic for any one who figures out the type of poem) he growled and beat one hand on the table again. 

This was far from the first poem he had received instead of a proper mission report. It fact he had dedicated a drawer to scraps of poems and what looked like song lyrics vaguely describing a assignment. 

At first he had suspected stark but then asked pepper if Tony had ever written her poetry or a song. She had scowled and dropped a plain sheet of lined construction paper in his lap two hours later. 

"Pepper I love you,  
Do u love me 2   
Cause you flew,  
In my jet that was new" 

She had stood tapping a foot before he looked up. "The man who calls himself a genius produced this?" Somehow it was just pathetic. 

"It took him hours and I kept reminding him it didn't have to rhythm. He obviously did anyway. You may keep that and I hope this concludes Tony's attempt at literature." 

She had walked out with the right to be rather snappish. Not Starks finest moment. 

That left five other avengers. Steve had instantly been out because he followed instructions like they were the gospel truth and there was pages of them on how to write a report. He had read them all. 

Bruce banner was also out considering he either obeyed and wrote whatever he could in complete detail or informed them he remembered nothing. Often he fell asleep in the middle of writing and nobody had the heart or the guts to wake him up. Even if most of his reports had sound files of snores and drool on them they were filled out correctly. 

Thor was a lost cause when it came to writing or typing. The delicate touch screens shattered under his touch and the pencil and pens suffered similar fates. There also may have been an incident with a stapler, lightening, stationary, a couple traumatized junior agents, and a whole desks worth of more paperwork. He was banned from reports witch stark had whined was not fair. The Norse occasionally tried to send one anyway but it was in his native language so that was concrete hard evidence against him writing poems in English. 

Natasha would have been a suspect if he had thought that she would do anything involving sitting still not on a stakeout. Her and Barton in a room with nothing to do was like babysitting teenagers with severe ADHD. He had even tried to get them tested one time. The final choice was that she could sent in reports in her way. But that was never poetry or anything related to it. Besides the hand writing was masculine but he wouldn't put it past her to disguise it. 

That left only one person. The sharpshooter himself. It almost had the perfect prank for him and fury wondered why he hadn't thought of it. The only good paperwork he got from Barton had Coulson's name too and the last he had heard phil was trying to force Clint to work. 

Decision made he strode Down the short hallway to the agents rooms. They were impeccably neat and phil was sitting with reading glasses perched on his nose. "Here I made him work with me on these. I promise there's no poems. I was wondering how long it would take you to figure out. He's pretty good at writing anything that isn't non fiction and crawling through the vents. Those two talents spelled trouble and surprisingly good pieces." 

"As long as they aren't in my files they are the most beautiful thing on earth." Fury half shouted as he walked out the door. 

"As always sir, as always."


End file.
